Glazunov’s symphonies have had their proponents
over the years but they suffered the fate of most late-romantica
during the period 1936-1980. Regarded as bloated nineteenth
century excesses they became as unfashionable as the symphonies
of Bax who often played them privately in piano duet versions
during the period 1900-1935. Their impact on his music can be
heard in Bax’s Gopak and In a Vodka Shop as well
as in the ballet King Kojata and The Truth About Russian
Dancers.

The tide began to turn with various Soviet recordings
which in the UK appeared under licence on EMI-Melodiya LPs in
the 1960-s and 1970s. The BBC also stood by them including them
occasionally in studio broadcasts by the BBC regional orchestras
often with Bryden Thomson, Maurice Handford or Stanford Robinson.
I first heard No. 5 in a relay by the BBC Northern in the early
1970s and was immediately won round. Later I heard broadcasts
of those often virile and remarkable ASD LPs: 2, 3 (Khaikin),
4 (Rakhlin); 5, 7 (Fedoseyev), 8 (Svetlanov). There are earlier
still recordings by Akulov (1) and Golovanov (6). Fedoseyev
obliged with a complete cycle in a Eurodisc LP box. With the
CD has come various other cycles either complete or in train:
Polyansky on Chandos, a Naxos cycle with various conductors
and very early on a fine Olympia cycle from Rozhdestvenky. Svetlanov
recorded all eight symphonies and I suspect that they will be
well worth having. The Naxos cycle has proved variable in quality
but often underpowered. Polyansky is superbly recorded in the
virile and highly-coloured Decca tradition but he too is sometimes
drawn too much to poetic reflection. It’s a pity that the energising
power evinced in his recordings often Taneyev symphonies did
not take hold more securely in the Glazunov symphony sessions.
Surely it will not be long before Polyansky’s Glazunov will
also be issued in a Chandos box.

In the First Symphony – the work of a sixteen
year old - we get a gracious rather than an excitable Allegro
and a very Rimskian second movement. In fact the work was dedicated
to Rimsky-Korsakov his teacher and premiered under Balakirev.
The wheezy-creaky finale is suitably flighty and eager.

The Sixth Symphony is from Glazunov’s maturity
and was given its first performance in St Petersburg in February
1897 just a month before he was to conduct the premiere of Rachmaninov’s
First Symphony. It is a more darkly dramatic work than many
of the other symphonies. Otaka catches the undulating turbulence
of this music in the first movement and the drama ignites strongly
for him in the finale parts of which resemble the tramping finale
of Rachmaninov’s First Symphony.

The Second Symphony has that Borodin-oriental
style and Otaka spins it in silk and gold leaf and also captures
elements of the stomping excitement of Borodin’s own Second
Symphony in the last two movements. The brilliant saw-toothed
edge of the BBC Welsh deep brass is well caught especially in
the finale.

There’s a grandiloquent Mazurka that
ends with a resonant crash. This is a dance in the tradition
of Glazunov’s two Concert Waltzes. Then comes his Lisztian
tone poem From Darkness to Light at one moment
all crashing and thunder and lightning and recalling Tapiola
in its tempestuous moments; at the next poetic in the same
way that Berlioz finds poetry in Symphonie Fantastique and
Tchaikovsky in Manfred. This is all magnificently done
by Otaka and the BBC Welsh even if one wonders whether yet more
formidable results could have been conjured by a Mravinsky or
a Golovanov. The piece ends with typically regal celebratory
march flourishes similar to the blazing finale of the Eighth
Symphony. No masterwork here, you can feel it creak as a ‘structure’
but it is worth the journey. The swooningly feverish Ballade
comes from the same year as the Seventh Symphony and
carries the influence of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique without
that work’s unbearable intensity before slipping back to Glazunov’s
accustomed grand processional mode.

The Third Symphony, the first of his symphonies
to be conducted by the composer at the premiere. The dedication
is to Tchaikovsky. In it he sought to distance himself from
the Kouchka nationalists but was only partially successful.
He did not have the emotionally expressive depth of Tchaikovsky.
This performance again majors on the reflective – a slightly
sleepy approach which even the flash and flicker of the Scherzo-Vivace
does not completely escape. The finale is similarly heavy-lidded
this despite some truly charming woodwind writing.

The fourth disc includes two of Glazunov’s most
effective and endearingly exciting symphonies. The composer
spoke of the Fourth Symphony as ‘personal, free, subjective
impressions of myself.’ In this Otaka articulates the music
rather well and the magnificent Borodin-Rimsky style first movement
melody is haltingly done to lightly languid effect and it is
done extremely well – every hesitation and halting pause perfectly
weighted (tr. 1 13:01). The woodwind develop an inherently propulsive
counter-idea in the first movement and this bubbles infectiously
in the scherzo and after a quiet ‘Intrada’ the exciting tramping
celebratory stamping energy returns and dominates the finale.
This is as good as Otaka’s Glazunov gets in this set and very
good it is too. That said, the emotional play and responsiveness
of this wonderful symphony is more volatile still in other hands.
Nathan Rakhlin was excellent (never reissued on CD). Polyansky
turned in a finely nuanced and subtle yet pliantly and enchantingly
engaging version and he is transparently recorded by Chandos.
For me however Serebrier (Warner) stands tall in this company;
on this evidence he may well be the Glazunov conductor
of our time.

The Glazunov Eighth Symphony is his last
completed Symphony although a completion was essayed and the
result recorded in Moscow conducted by Gavriil Yudin and issued
on Olympia. Number 8 is another work grand in intention and
this time in execution as well. Allowing for the whirling Meistersinger
reminiscences in the big finale of No. 8 it also works convincingly
when punched home as magnificently as here. Try the golden Elgarian
blare of the Welsh horns at 6:33 as they surmount the orchestra.
In fact if you wanted to stump up full price for a single disc
as representative of the best of Otaka’s cycle, CD4 is it (BIS-CD-1378).

Generally, if you like your Glazunov rather languid
then you have your man in Otaka. This is certainly the case
with the Fifth Symphony on the last disc of the set.
Here Otaka communicates as a Giulini rather than as a young
Bernstein; not that either conductor would have touched Glazunov's
symphonies - go on surprise me! Even in the Scherzo of the Fifth
Symphony - amongst the best of the symphonies - Otaka takes
his time. The sparkle of the writing is semaphored in slower
motion. I rather miss the effervescence of Svetlanov, of Fedoseyev,
of Rozhdestvensky and most recently of Serebrier. The rapped
out playfulness of the last movement is also softened; more's
the pity. That said the recordings are all in splendidly etched
sound with gallons of impact.

When it comes to the Seventh Symphony, occasionally
known as The Pastoral, the overarching tempo is slow
anyway. Otaka's clear-eyed and carefully controlled view works
much better in this context. The music sings along in contemplation
of rural scenes. Time and again the pastoral image shared with
Beethoven's Sixth comes home with strength. The BBC Welsh are
an extraordinary orchestra but I thought their wind section
less than brilliant at the start of the scherzo.

This is for those who like their Glazunov considered
and languorous. Otaka's Glazunov mind-set does not, on this
evidence, extend to the sort of excitable exuberance we get
with Serebrier, Svetlanov, Fedoseyev and Rozhdestvensky. I am
looking forward to the completion of Serebrier’s Glazunov project
with Warners, to reviewing a complete Chandos set from Polyansky
and to Svetlanov’s Glazunov cycle appearing from the Svetlanov
Foundation in Moscow. Svetlanov is usually good in this repertoire
as a recently-heard CDR of a Russian concert performance of
The Sea proves. However he is not infallible as his rather
flaccid version of Miaskovsky Symphony No. 5 on Olympia goes
to show. I also hope that people will not close their minds
to Rozhdestvensky’s early digital cycle from circa 1983-5.

Glazunov is a composer well able to delight but
the spirit, rather like that in the symphonies of Bax and Miaskovsky,
can be elusive. It is captured only intermittently by Otaka
although his versions are strong on reflective poetry. They
are sturdily and honestly recorded and this set is very well
documented courtesy of Andrew Huth.

Other reviewers do not agree with me about the
merits of this cycle so do also have a look at the reviews by
John Quinn, Terry Barfoot and Chris Fifield of the individual
discs.

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